


Sleepy-sex

by mira (stellamira)



Category: NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-28
Updated: 2003-10-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellamira/pseuds/mira
Summary: Chris pinched his hip right in the middle of JC's acceptance speech for the third Grammy award. JC curled tighter into himself. "Don' wanna."





	Sleepy-sex

"JC... Jayceee," was sung softly in his ear. JC pulled his hands up to his face, clutching the blanket. He was trying not to smile. Smiling would mean he'd come even more awake than he already was, and all he wanted was at least two hours more sleep.

Mhm, that, and Chris' fingers walking up his bare thigh under the covers.

"C'mon," Chris whispered, hand coming to rest right over the ticklish spot on JC's hip - wasn't that just mean - "I know you're awake."

JC squeezed his eyes together. He wasn't awake, not really. If Chris just gave him one minute of quiet, he could drift off again. Maybe resume his dream about writing this one song that's just it, hits it really big. Everybody loves it and it's on top of the charts for half a year. MTV dedicates a whole show to it each day, where it's played on repeat for an hour.

Chris pinched his hip right in the middle of JC's acceptance speech for the third Grammy award. JC curled tighter into himself. "Don' wanna."

"All day long..." Chris started to sing. JC groaned quietly, all hope for a Grammy chased from his mind. Wasn't it enough that Chris had teased him mercilessly for a week when JC had shown him the song? "... with you."

"Do ‘t without me," JC murmured into his pillow. He was torn between wishing Chris out of his bed and out of his boxers. Chris, apparently, had already decided, wrestled shortly with his underwear, then pressed up behind JC.

Nice, JC thought when Chris semi-hard dick slid into the small of his back, and then he didn't think for a minute or two because he was starting to fall asleep again.

Justin apologizes to him about all the years that he has argued with JC over writing, repeating over and over how he never gave JC enough credit for his work, how he is gorgeous, and really, Justin should have encouraged and respected him ages ago. At some point, Justin sinks to his knees, dropping his head, which really isn't necessary but JC isn't going to complain. He's petting Justin's hair, soothing, calming, everything's okay, when Justin raises his head, opens his mouth and says, "Want you, want you now," and, huh?

"Want you, want you," Chris gnawed the words into JC's shoulder, marking a slick trail up to his neck. Somewhere during the last dream sequence he had gotten fully hard and was now rubbing himself deliciously against JC's back. He started to roll JC over, and JC fought against it, as fiercely as he could without raising too much strength. Behind him, there was the window, and the window was bad, because that meant light shining directly into his face instead of only indirectly illuminating the room, and Chris got off the bed.

"Hrrmm," JC complained. He hadn't meant for Chris to leave completely; he'd be perfectly content to lie here with him, still, sleeping, maybe Chris could thrust a little against him until he got off, if his urge was so strong. JC tried not to think too much about his own urge that he slowly began to feel.

"Ssh," Chris said, and the room got suddenly darker. Ah, Chris had closed the blinds; bless him. Why was it taking him so long to come back; it wasn't JC's fault when Joey starts crying when he sees JC again for the first time after his US stadium tour. Brianna has made him a Fatone Award that is given away in a small ceremony. It's actually pretty skillfully crafted considering she's not even in kindergarten yet. He'll place it between his 6 Grammys and 8 Moonmen. He probably should buy a new shelf or a show-case even, it's getting fu-

JC yelped when Chris jumped back on the bed, nearly landing on parts of his body that wanted to crawl away and hide with the mere thought of getting hit by a knee.

"Wake, wake, wake," Chris whined, shaking JC's shoulders, then his own head. JC couldn't see it, of course, what with his eyes still closed and all, but he imagined he must. "Wake up," Chris said, more quietly, kissing along JC's collarbones, swirling his tongue in the dent between. "Wake," he repeated, softer still, licking down JC's chest. He took the blanket with him, which JC didn't like, so he grabbed at it and pulled it back up to his chin. Chris slid fluidly under. His lips closed over JC's left nipple and sucked lightly, which was, in fact, contraproductive, since anything being done there that didn't include the use of teeth, JC found usually very relaxing. He'd be damned to tell Chris that now, though.

Lance comes to him one evening, offering him a record deal with his company, with more favorable conditions than the deal he had so far. Now that JC doesn't write for NSync anymore... JC is startled. Of course, he'll write for NSync again, this was just a project, a thing he had to; no, they haven't broken up. Lance is so relieved that he shreds the contract and offers JC a blowjob instead.

JC almost opened his eyes at that, because that really grossed him out, before he realized it was Chris' mouth on his dick, already gone to work. For a second he wanted to protest - Chris played unfair, damnit - but then Chris opened his mouth even further and started humming.

"Mmm," JC murmured. "Don' stop."

Chris pulled off. "I thought you didn't want to have sex," he said, voice muffled.

"Wanna," JC confirmed, a hand scrabbling under the covers to try to push Chris back to his task. "Don' stop."

Chris had the most talented mouth ever, in the whole world, and the most talented tongue, too, and the strongest arms that locked JC's waist to the bed even as he tried to lift his hips. Who needed a fucking famous dream song, fucking dream Grammys and Moonmen, fucking dream Justin Timberlake on his knees, when he could have this, for real. Chris opened his throat and took him even deeper, gliding smoothly up and down, and JC whimpered with each movement. If the tightening in his gut was the kind of indication he suspected it was, it would be over pretty soon, and then he could go back to sleep, fantastic, blissed out sleep in Chris' arms, wasn't that just a great prospect, it was so great he smiled, fucking had to, and Chris pulled one of his hands from his waist and stroked a single finger down his balls, and JC shuddered hard and came.

At 27, JC gets his first lifetime achievement award, presented by his four best friends. He cries on stage, and he hugs everyone, even two of the cameramen who stand too close, safe Chris. Chris he kisses on the mouth, with tongue, and everybody's cheering and there are standing ovations. In his speech, he reads a two foot long list of thanks; he doesn't even forget-

"Hey." JC was shaken lightly. "Hey, don't you forget something? Did you fall asleep again?"

"Hmmm." JC noticed his smile was still in place. He opened his eyes a sliver. Chris was bending down above him like a black shadow, all dark eyes and wild hair, which hung into his face.

"More like passed out, eh?"

JC nodded.

Chris squirmed. "Uh, so, maybe you haven' noticed it, being asleep and all, but I could need a little help here..."

JC looped his arm around Chris' neck to pull him down for a kiss, pressing his other hand around to Chris' ass. He put his mouth to Chris' ear and whispered, "Let me tell you about my dream."


End file.
